The same clawing heartache.
By the time the weekend hit, Jaci was absolutelydonewith moping around in the apartment, crawling the walls waiting for her vampire prince to show his stupidly handsome face. Even though Colin hadn’t yet cleared her to return to work, on Friday night she made three important decisions.
One, she was showering, primping, and getting dressed up in her hottest ensemble.
Two, she was putting on her sultriest wine-colored lipstick.
And three, she was marching down to Obsidian, planting her hot little ass firmly behind the bar, and debuting a brand-new drink: The Flaming Phoenix, in honor of her triumphant return.
“Eat your heart out, dickhead,” she said to her reflection in the mirror, smoothing the last errant curl into place. “This bitch is a fuckingsnack.”
Then, tossing a few things into her purse and grabbing her coat, she headed for the door.
She opened it hard and fast, fully prepared for a verbal sparring match with the two vampire guards Gabriel had stationed in the hallway. They’d been positioned there all week, as unmoving and rock-solid as gargoyles, armed to the teeth with guns and stakes and something that looked terrifyingly like a rocket launcher.
But tonight when Jaci opened the door, she found only one vampire, armed not with weapons, but with two potted plants, their scent giving them away as readily as their bright green leaves.
Mentha spicata.
Mint.
Chapter Twenty
“Gabriel,” Jaci breathed, the taste of his name on her lips bringing tears to her eyes.
Seeing him there, awkwardly fumbling with the plants, his misty green gaze full of a vulnerability he’d never allowed her to see…
All her righteous anger blew away on a soft sigh.
Dickhead or not—holy hell, she’d missed him.
“Right, then,” he announced, shuffling his feet like a nervous schoolboy reporting for detention. It was so out of character, she was beginning to doubt whether it was really Gabriel. Maybe a doppelgänger, or a shapeshifter, or—
“I brought you some mint.” He thrust the plants toward her, but as soon as she reached for them, he snatched them back. “Wait, sorry. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy.”
“Potted plants? Not exactly moving pianos here, Prince.”
“Why risk it?” Dragging his gaze up and down her curves, all decked out in leather and silk, he said, “I should come inside.”
Yes, you should. Forget the plants and the excuses and awkwardness and just march into this apartment, haul me into your arms, tear off my clothes, and fuck me straight through the goddamn wall…
Jaci lifted her chin and shook out her hair, ignoring the machine-gun fire of her heartbeat. The heat pooling inconveniently between her thighs.
It’s called dignity, girl. Have some.
“Actually, I was just heading out,” she said.
“Out? But I’ve just… Where?”
“Obsidian, if you must know.”
“Oh, I think not.”
“Excuseme?”
He moved into her space, forcing her to step aside and let him pass or risk crushing the poor plants. “It’s snowing, you’re barely dressed, the bar is packed with miscreants, and you need to rest.”
Is he fucking serious right now?
